God Of Goshen
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: The plagues as seen through the eyes of an Egyptian family and their Hebrew friends. (Names of gods and places are in Egyptian. Out of respect, I have been as accurate to ancient texts as possible. I gave the story a strong rating because there's a chapter where a baby is born, but nothing graphic. I just don't want unsupervised five-year-olds reading this and having questions.)
1. Chapter 1

_Ankh! Udja! Seneb!_

Heru Wer glided over our fields effortlessly, suddenly swooping with outstretched talons. I silently prayed that he would see fit to spare our young goslings and the nearly grown ducklings, especially since he had no reason to punish our family. We served the gods faithfully and offered sacrifices at the temple.

I hardly envied sacred animals kept at temples or in homes where they were revered pets. They were offered so much food that they sometimes had to be force fed. I could only hope that when they were mummified after their deaths, either of natural causes or forced gluttony, they would no longer be captive in the Field of Reeds. No doubt they reigned as gods in the next world.

To my immense relief, as the falcon flew away, I saw that its quarry was a small mammal, still alive as it struggled in the talons that carried it to its demise. However, I saw the slightest movement in the grass, even though the victim was no longer on the ground. I was only too eager to set aside my spindle and distaff for the sake of solving this great mystery.

When I neared the area where Heru Wer had been, I was surprised to see three baby mongooses, little more than patches of brown fur with pointed noses and dark eyes that had barely been opened. Looking around, I saw no trace of the father or any other mongooses that might have been relatives. The babies were so tiny and helpless that I had no trouble catching them before they were able to reach their den. All three fit in one hand, although I cupped my hands together to carry them to make sure I wouldn't accidentally drop one.

"What are those creatures?!" Pelkha demanded as soon as I entered the house. "Did you finish the spinning like Mother asked?!"

"They'll keep the rats out of the granary," I explained.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"They're gifts from Heru Wer. He took their mother."

Although my sister was often impatient with me, she never argued against the will of the gods. As I held the babies on my lap, Pelkha brought me some milk.

"You mustn't be disappointed if they don't live long," she remarked. "They're far too young to survive without their mother. Are you listening, Anit?!"

Dipping a small corner of cloth into the milk, I offered it to the small mongooses. It took nearly half an hour to feed all three babies only a few drops at a time, but at last, their little tummies were finally full.

Meanwhile, Pelkha took up the spindle and distaff I had discarded, patiently finishing my chores for me. Even though I had been born first, my twin sister acted as if I were years younger than she was. Pelkha was always so practical and dutiful, as if already practicing her role as wife and mother.

The door opened, and Zahra entered the room, exhausted from her journey to the canal to wash our family's laundry. I felt ashamed of myself for losing patience so easily with spinning when Zahra carried heavy baskets of dirty clothing and risked crocodile attacks.

"Is Dhouti still working?" she queried.

"He is," I answered, smiling at my new companions.

I had been surprised when my brother had announced his plan to take a wife, but Zahra was a kind, industrious woman who told stories better than anyone else in Kemet. I spent many nights listening to her tales of the gods while Dhouti played board games with Father.

"What do you have there?" Zahra asked, crossing the room to where I was.

"Baby mongooses," I explained. "Their mother was taken by Heru Wer."

My sister-in-law nearly laughed. "Anit, not every falcon is Heru Wer."

"You're right," I agreed. "Some are Heru Sa Aset."

She smiled. "Then I guess we ought to make a bed for your babies."

Zahra arranged scraps of cloth into a comfortable pallet, and I lowered the young mongooses onto it. One opened its eyes momentarily before drifting back to sleep. They were all snuggled together in a small pile. I arranged one piece of cloth so it lightly covered them, enough to keep the babies warm without the risk of suffocation.

"We should start supper." Pelkha remarked. "I can't imagine what's keeping Mother and Father. Anit, go out to the dovecote and bring us a few."

I never cared for the task of wringing the necks of birds, even if it was necessary for us to be able to eat. The stench of the dovecote was nearly overpowering, even though we cleaned it as often as we were able, and the cooing of the doves was gentle, nearly melodic, a sharp contrast to the horrible deed I was about to commit. Just before its death, each bird would stare up at me with unblinking, frightened eyes, its frantic heart racing beneath my fingertips.

Furthermore, I had to examine each bird before killing it. If it was too fine of a specimen, it must be allowed to live so it could be sacrificed to the gods. Only scrawny birds with imperfections were fit for our table. I must also take care not to harm any birds on their nests, for we must have future generations to replenish the birds we consumed.

When I had finished my unpleasant task, I carried the small bodies back to the house, where Zahra and Pelkha helped me pluck them. The scent awakened the baby mongooses, who waddled over to investigate, but although the instinct to hunt was within each of them, they were still too young to act on it, so they soon lost interest.

After every feather had finally been removed, Pelkha seasoned the meat and placed it into the oven. She sighed wearily.

"Anit, go get us some mandrake fruits."

I turned to leave.

"Make sure they're perfectly ripe! They're poisonous otherwise!"

Did Pelkha honestly believe I had forgotten about the time we had nearly lost Dhouti when he had taken some fruit that was not yet ripe? He had fallen ill, unable to keep food in his stomach, which he complained felt like coiled knots of fire. His heart had slowed so greatly that we feared he was destined for the Field of Reeds.

The _sewnu_ had delivered the news sadly. "I fear I can do nothing for this condition, but I will still try. Give him mint to settle his stomach."

While Mother had mixed mint in nonfermented wine for my brother, Father had immediately made offerings to Sekhmet and Nefertum. The gods honored our prayers, and Usir spared my brother's life.

Pushing aside such unpleasant memories, I began gathering the fruit. Was Pelkha simply too bossy, or was I truly irresponsible? Why couldn't I be more industrious like Zahra?

When I returned home, I saw Mother and Father had arrived. Mother beamed proudly when she saw me.

"Anit, your father met up with an old friend in the marketplace," she began. "They had quite the interesting discussion."

Father placed his hand on my shoulder. "Dearest daughter, it's high time you were married."

I was so startled that I dropped the fruit I had been carrying.

"I'm not in love with anyone," I protested.

I reminded Father that it was the custom among poor families for people to choose their own spouses after developing feelings of romance through courtship rather than having arranged marriages as people of wealthy families did. Dhouti and Zahra had come to love each other before they had been wed.

"My daughter," Father began, "falling in love is a wonderful thing, but sometimes, marriage comes before love. Your mother was your age when I signed the marriage contract with her father, and the arrangement has been blessed by the gods. We've come to care very deeply for each other over the years, and you can see we've had a happy home and a good life together."

"Hanif is a young man," Mother added, "about your age. His farm is prosperous, and he doesn't fear work. Merchants praise him for his honesty, and priests admire his piety. Furthermore, he is a kind man, gentle and patient. He will make a wonderful father for your future children, and he'll be an excellent provider for you. Is it not a wonderful match, Anit?"

I was speechless. Everything was happening too quickly. Although I had always known that my parents, especially my father, would arrange my marriage when I came of age, I had always assumed it would be to a man I already loved and had begged to ask my Father to make the necessary arrangements, not to a complete stranger.

"Have you met him?" I asked when I finally regained my ability to speak.

"Of course," Father assured me. "I wouldn't allow my daughter to go to just any man. Hanif's father was a dear friend of mine."

I was still in a daze when I ascended the steps to the roof for supper. I knew things could have been worse. I could have been paired with a man even older than my own father. At least Hanif didn't sound too awful. Perhaps we could at least be friends, and maybe in time, we could learn to love each other.


	2. Chapter 2

I sighed impatiently as Mother and Zahra began applying cream to my face to shield my skin from the sun. Arranged marriages usually occurred in noble families, but we had too few possessions to worry about a marriage contract. Why wasn't I allowed to find love and choose my own husband like other girls born to poor families?

"Stay still!" Pelkha ordered, combing my hair, which was still damp from my morning bath.

"What's it like to be married?" I asked.

Zahra smiled. "Before another hour has passed, you'll know."

To freshen my breath, I accepted the small confection she handed me. We had spent the previous evening grinding frankincense, melon, cinnamon, pine seeds, and cashews into powder, which we had then mixed with honey and hardened over the fire before leaving it to cool in small circles.

"I wore something like this when I married your father," Mother explained, applying a fragrant cream to my hands.

Mother seldom wore her perfume, for it was too luxurious for our family to afford, but on her wedding day years ago, she had been given a small jar. Now she had managed to find enough money to give me a little perfume on the day of my own marriage.

While Pelkha continued to comb through my hair, weaving it into braids, Zahra applied yet another cream to my feet to repel insects. Mother began applying different colors of ochre to my face, finishing by lining my eyes with kohl. After what seemed like hours, she finally held up the mirror of flattened metal so I could see my face.

"So beautiful!" Zahra complimented. "You make such a lovely bride!"

Pelkha beamed her approval, quite pleased with herself for taming my hair into intricate plaits. Mother smiled warmly, but she was unable to speak as she tried unsuccessfully to hide the tears in her eyes.

Dhouti took my hands in his. "You look amazing! Hanif is a fortunate man!"

Father's eyes gleamed with pride, but I had little to say to him. What kind of man traded off his own child to the son of a man he used to know?

I barely remember the walk to meet Hanif. Part of me wished we would arrive quickly so this day would finally end, but I was still grateful for every moment of delaying the inevitable.

Since Hanif's farm was much larger than my father's, I carried two baby mongooses with me, leaving the third for my parents. Zahra assured me that she would make sure to give the baby plenty of cuddles and play games with it so the young creature would not miss its family. The young creatures were much more active now, and they had nearly doubled in size. It wouldn't be long before I could start feeding them small scraps of meat.

When we finally arrived at my new home, I was horribly disappointed. My husband was a short, ugly man. His face was horrifically scarred and disfigured. One side of his nose was missing, and so much of his lips had been lost that they barely covered his teeth. Although his vision didn't seem affected, his left eye was unable to open as fully as his right.

" _Itti_ ," I greeted, attempting to be polite.

" _Em hotep nefer weret_!" Hanif smiled and handed me a bouquet of wildflowers. "Truly honored to meet you at last. Your father spoke of your intelligence and your kindness, even to animals, but I'm afraid he failed to mention your beauty."

My face reddened at his words. I silently gave thanks that we were not part of a culture that required a priest and an official wedding ceremony, for any manner of ritual would have greatly augmented my discomfort. Kemetian marriage was simple. As soon as I had arrived at Hanif's home, I had been considered his wife.

"I'm going to do everything I can to make you happy," he continued. "I could easily afford a female slave or a harlot, but I don't want either. I want a companion, a partner in joys and sorrows, a friend to share my life. I hope we come to love each other."

My voice was barely audible when I replied, "I hope so too."

"The gods have blessed me greatly, and I'll be able to provide a good life for my bride. When I can, I'll bring you back a treasure from the market when I make trades, but in the meantime, if there's anything you need to feel more at home here, just tell me. I want us both to be happy."

I stared at my bouquet, unable to speak. My thoughts whirled around in my mind so wildly that I was barely able to eat the feast that was served in celebration of our marriage, although I did notice that my new house was rather spacious. I knew how rude it was to stare at my food, but I could do little else.

Hanif had proven a gracious host. Since he was unsure of my favorite foods, he had prepared a variety. We were offered oryx, ibex, pelican, pigeon, fish eggs in brine, perch, turtle, gourds, mushrooms, dates, berries, apricot seeds, bean sprouts, pomegranates, and walnuts. These dishes were served on plates made of bronze rather than earthenware, and we sat at a low table. Although he was hardly wealthy, my new husband was indeed prosperous.

I dreaded thoughts of the evening. Did he expect me to kiss his face when the very sight of it made me shudder? My flesh crawled as I imagined those hideous lips against mine. Would his hands, both of which were missing parts of several fingers, reach to stroke my hair? I winced at the thought. Truly I was ashamed of myself, for I knew his appearance was hardly his fault, but I hoped he did not expect me to become his lover immediately.

All too soon, my family returned home. I yearned to scream and throw myself at my mother's feet like a young child, but I had to content myself with embracing her before she turned to leave. She held me close for several moments, praying softly. Then, with a final smile and eyes gleaming with pride, she walked away.

Hanif gently clasped my hand in his. "Are you alright, Anit?"

"I'm fine," I lied, even as a tear slid down my face.

I was too overcome with sorrow to feel horror at the different sizes of incomplete fingers that wrapped themselves around mine, but although the strong hands had formed callouses, the grasp was gentle.

"Your family's farm isn't far," he consoled. "We'll visit them often."

Unsure of how to respond, I kept silent.

"Would you like to see your new home?"

Still unable to answer, I followed him. Hanif owned many horses, cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, geese, and ducks. There were also a few donkeys, one of which was a young foal. Cats roamed freely, allowed to patrol the farm for rodents or come indoors for attention.

Wherever Hanif walked, he was followed by his dog, a slender, lithe creature with long legs. However, the farm was guarded by a stocky, heavy dog. My husband explained that he took both whenever he went hunting for gazelles, antelopes, cranes, quails, or ostriches.

"I don't hunt wild sheep," he stated. "I think we have enough here."

"What about hippopotami?" I queried.

"Too majestic and powerful. I couldn't imagine harming one."

I thought Taweret must surely be pleased by his admiration, so perhaps when I brought forth children, I would have no complications.

"What about your family?" I asked.

When Hanif told me what had happened, I could scarcely believe what I had heard. His parents had been taken by leprosy, which had nearly claimed his life as well. Hanif had only survived when a man from Goshen had seen him. Taking pity, the stranger had called upon his gods, and within a few days, Hanif had recovered.

"Were your brothers and sisters taken by the disease as well?" I wondered aloud.

"None of them survived childhood," he answered.

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how lonely it must be to have no one."

Hanif took my hand. "I have a wife now, so I won't be lonely anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

"Again?!" Pelkha scolded.

I sighed as I began untangling the mass of knots I had woven.

"I miss my husband too." Zahra patted my hand sympathetically.

During the season of Akhet, Hapi caused the Iterw to flood our fields. Although it was necessary for our crops to grow, no farming could be done during this time, so many farmers served Nisu, as was required as part of paying taxes. Hanif was an excellent artist, so he had been chosen to help the scribes paint beautiful scenes in the temple, but my brother had been required to serve as a pyramid builder. Father had been spared because of his age.

At least Hanif was able to return home every evening. Dhouti stayed near his worksite, many days away. I wondered how Zahra could bear being separated from her husband. If not for my family, I would surely have gone mad without Hanif.

He had kept his word, and we visited my parents often, also welcoming them to our own farm. Whenever Hanif went to the market, he never failed to bring back something special. I was gaining quite a collection of perfumes and jewelry. Once he had surprised me with a beautiful ivory comb.

Our disputes as a married couple were few and always settled easily. Unlike many men, Hanif did not require me to obey him, although out of respect for my husband, I hid the fire of my personality while we were in public. His kindred spirit and ready smile had quickly endeared him to me, and our compatibility had turned to love.

"How are your mongooses?" Mother asked.

"Shadya is truly a gift from Maftet!" I began. "I've seen her kill countless rats and scorpions, as well as a viper! Rabiah isn't as industrious, but she's more affectionate than her sister. How is Ari?"

"Still protecting our grain."

My only complaint about my life now was my health. I had been breathing steam of the hibiscus to clear my nasal passages and relieve my cough, and I alternated between tamarind and caraway seeds to aid my digestion. My favorite foods no longer appealed to me, but foods I ate only out of courtesy suddenly seemed like the finest dishes I had ever tasted. Perhaps this symptom was due to my frequent salivation and sore gums.

I knew I was being too fussy. I'd been experiencing bouts of irritability and sorrow for no apparent reason. Surely I'd feel more like myself when this illness had passed.

Setting aside my weaving, I wrapped myself in a blanket. The room had become too chilly. No doubt the rising floodwaters had affected the temperature, and now the coolness of the Iterw filled the warmth of our home.

"What troubles you, my daughter?" Mother asked kindly.

"I'm too hot," I replied, folding the blanket and placing it beside me, touching my brow to see if I was sweating as profusely as I felt.

My mother felt my forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

Bursting into tears, I told her all about the mysterious illness and begged her to make me well. Instead of comforting me, my mother shrieked excitedly as tears of joy filled her eyes. She began promising the gods the finest sacrifices she could offer.

Wrapping me in an embrace, Mother explained gently, "You're not suffering from illness, dear one."

When she told me the true cause of my discomfort, I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I wasn't ready for such news. I had not been married a full year, and now my life was changing yet again.

"The best is yet to come!" my mother promised. "You'll see!"

All too soon, it was time for me to return home, for our livestock still required food, even though our fields could not be tended. Bidding my family farewell, I started for the farm.

On my way, I stopped at the market to buy a large amount of fenugreek. I thought perhaps if I began preparing it now, I would have more than enough during my hour of greatest need. The doctor's wife smiled at me sympathetically, her dark eyes contrasting her light gray hair.

"Having trouble, dear?" she asked kindly.

I blushed. "Not as much as I imagine I'll be having in a few months."

The woman reached out her wrinkled hand and clasped mine. "Praise the goddesses, dear! And what does your husband say?"

"He doesn't know," I admitted. "I just found out myself."

Although the doctor's wife meant well, she gave me so much advice concerning my condition that I knew I would never be able to remember it. However, I thanked her politely before continuing my journey home.

To my surprise, Hanif was waiting for me at the door. I threw my arms around him and eagerly pressed my lips against his.

"You're home early!" I remarked.

"The temple's paintings are finished, and so is my service to Nisu for this year." He smiled warmly. "I got you something."

Hanif pressed a small, warm, squirming bundle into my hand. Gasping in delight, I cuddled the kitten under my chin.

"Darling, we already have so many cats," I began. "Are you sure…?"

He held up his hand. "You're right. We already have so many that one more mouth to feed won't make much of a difference. I got one for your parents as well."

Their new pet was solid black, like a storm at midnight.

Hanif explained what had happened. When he had finished his work, he had seen a familiar face in the market. The man of Goshen who had appealed to his gods for Hanif's healing of leprosy was standing with his wife, who asked passersby if they wanted a kitten.

"We've been giving them away all day," the Hebrew explained. "Our cat had kittens, but we're getting too old to keep up with them."

"Don't your children help?" Hanif asked.

"They have to work. Such is the life of slaves."

Hanif scooped up the baby cats. "You have two kittens left, so I'll take one for my wife and one for my father-in-law's household."

The Hebrew woman gladly handed him both kittens, who looked up with eyes that still held a tint of blue, mewing incessantly.

"You look familiar," Hanif remarked. "Are you not the man who prayed over my illness?"

"Indeed. I am pleased that God has granted your recovery."

" _Dua Netjer en ek_! Yet I don't believe I ever learned your name. I am Hanif."

"Aviyah," the man answered. "My wife's name is Varda."

Hanif smiled warmly. "Let me give you something for the kittens."

Despite their protests, my husband insisted on giving the Hebrew couple a good measure of linen.

As Hanif finished telling his story, the kittens cuddled up to Rabiah, who was as tolerant of the young creatures as if they had been baby mongooses. Shadya sniffed at them for only a few moments before losing interest and going off to hunt.

"I'm thinking of calling ours Parushta," I remarked.

Hanif smiled. "It's a good name for him."

Like the mystic lion of his namesake, Parushta was blinking slowly before turning his intent gaze to the door. It wasn't until the next day that I remembered our kitten was female, as was the case with all cats born with a dappled black, light brown, and white pattern.

"If we had a son, would we call him Khsathsovairyo? We could name our daughter Akarkhentkats."

My husband chuckled. "Already naming our future children!" He gently took my hands in his and gave me a soft kiss on the forehead. "In due time, dear wife."

"Soon." I rested my head on his shoulder. "Before the next flood."


	4. Chapter 4

When Hanif first heard that the gods would bless us with a child, he did little more than stare in disbelief. After several moments, he finally regained his ability to speak…at least partially.

"W-what are y-y-you s-saying? D-do you mean…?"

"I do," I replied.

"You? You mean, you really are…?!"

"I am."

He stared without speaking before finding his voice again. "So we're having…?!"

"We are."

"A real one?!"

I laughed. "It better be!"

My husband was still incredulous. "You mean a baby?"

"I don't mean a crocodile!"

He took my hands in his. "Ours? Yours and mine?

"It isn't Nisu's!"

Hanif placed his hands on my sides and lifted me into the air, twirling me around a few times before setting me down. I'll never forget the pride or joy in his eyes.

"Are you sure it isn't a royal baby?" he queried. "As far as I'm concerned, you're carrying my little prince or princess."

For the rest of the day, he held my hand. Hanif drew some water from our well and placed it in the ice house so that whenever I was thirsty, I would have cold water, which he claimed would be ever so much better for helping me feel refreshed. When he had finished his task, he returned to hold my hand.

His questions were endless. How did I know I carried life? Did I need to see a _sewnu_? When did I find out? Did my mother and sister know? Could I feel the baby moving yet? How many months would it be before the outline of the baby's feet could be seen against my skin? What herbs could ease my discomfort as I experienced the symptoms common to women in my condition? Was I sure I could do housework without putting the baby at risk? Had I already decided who would serve as my _tjemset_?

After supper that night, Hanif told me he had a surprise for me. To my delight, he had prepared a bath of warm water scented with myrrh. A bowl of fruit and some of the water kept in the ice house had been placed near my bath so I could remain in the water while taking refreshment.

I soaked until the water of my bath was nearly as cold as what I had been drinking. The warmth was so relaxing that I almost fell asleep.

"That was so sweet of you!" I told Hanif when I had finished my bath.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, he would secretly draw a bath for me daily. I appreciated him more and more as my muscles became sore as the baby grew inside me.

During my bath, Hanif would always compose a romantic poem or write me a short letter about my beauty and strength. After I finished soaking, he would read it aloud to me as he massaged my shoulders, feet, back, and hands with oils.

The day after I told him about our coming blessing, my husband returned from the market with several soft, deep cushions to place on our bed, claiming they would help me sleep better when the baby made me uncomfortable. Hanif promised that on nights when the baby was too active for me to sleep, he would gently rub my swollen waist and sing lullabies.

Less than a week after hearing he would be a father, Hanif decided our house was simply too small. He hired a team of builders to add another story where we used to have our roof.

I pitied him every time I remembered why he took such excellent care of me. None of his brothers or sisters had survived childhood, and he had lost his parents. It would destroy him to lose his baby just when he was finally starting to hope he might have a family again.

"Would you rather have a son or daughter?" I asked.

"I don't care," Hanif responded, "as long as it's healthy."

"I hope it's as kind as its father."

"I hope it's as beautiful as its mother."

The first time I felt the baby move inside me, I immediately called my husband and placed his hand on my waist. I could tell from the look on his face the exact moment he felt the slight fluttering of little butterfly wings.

"We must get your family!" he exclaimed. "They'll never forgive us if we don't tell them!"

While I took a brief nap, he summoned my parents and siblings. I awoke to find a splendid feast consisting of my favorite dishes, as well as the ones I had often been craving. My mother and sister insisted on trying to feel the baby move, as did my sister-in-law.

"I got you something!" Hanif announced proudly.

He had purchased several toys shaped like animals that could be pulled with a string, even though the baby would not be old enough to play with them until it learned to walk. He had also found several bolts of the softest cloths from various lands. I didn't have the heart to remind him that it would be years before our child wore clothing. Perhaps I could make them into soft little blankets. The plain linen would be wrapped around the baby's waist to prevent messes.

"What's it like?" Zahra queried.

I felt guilty. I had been married a short while, and I was already with child. She had been married to my brother for years, and she had yet to conceive. My sister-in-law was industrious and patient, far more responsible than I had ever been, and she would be an excellent mother.

"It's simultaneously the best and worst experience I've ever had," I answered.

Pelkha smiled her approval of our home. I believe she had expected my husband to send me away for laziness or negligence the week after we were wed, but it seemed I had proven to be a good wife.

Without meaning to do so, the baby caused a huge fight between Zahra and Dhoti. After my brother congratulated me, his wife looked up at him with eyes filling with tears.

"I could make you that happy," she stated. "Why won't you give me the chance?"

Dhoti sighed. "You act as if it's my fault!"

"Well, it isn't mine!" Zahra retorted. "I took an onion to our bed, and my breath smelled of onions the following morning! That proves I'm capable of having children!"

"I'm healthy as well."

"Then what did you do?!" A tear slipped down her face. "Please think. Have you angered the gods in some way?"

"What?!"

"Did you ever hunt hippopotami?"

"Once, but…"

"You brute!" Zahra began sobbing. "Taweret is withholding a child from my arms because you had to prove your manliness!"

She fled to the barn in tears.

"I didn't catch one," Dhoti explained to the rest of us. "Even if I had, do you honestly expect me to believe that every man who kills a hippopotamus in unable to produce children? Not all hippopotami are Taweret."

Father gripped his shoulder. "Son, he who understands a woman's logic is more knowledgeable than the gods themselves."

Mother stepped outside and managed to convince Zahra that it was only a test. When the gods saw how kindly and diligently Zahra and Dhoti helped care for their little niece or nephew, they would bless them with a son or daughter of their own.

Pelkha looked unsure of herself. Ever since childhood, she had dreamed of one day being a wife and presiding over her husband's household, but seeing my physical discomfort and Zahra's broken heart caused her to give thanks that she was still a maiden.

When my family had returned to their home after our meal, I helped Hanif clear the table and clean the dishes. We worked without speaking, but the silence was warm and comfortable rather than threatening.

Never in my life had I been happier. I was the wife of a good man, an excellent provider who placed others before himself, and we had come to love each other. We would soon have a beautiful baby that we would watch grow into a lovely young woman or a strong young man. Each night as I snuggled closer into Hanif's arms as he tenderly stroked my hair, I felt all was right with the world.


	5. Chapter 5

I sat in the shade of our fruit orchard, stitching a blanket for the life that would soon be joining us. The baby was quite active, surely a sign of good health. I felt as if a live perch were swimming through the Iterw or flopping around on the bank.

Shadya was digging beside our barn, snatching up tasty insects that had been attempting to hide beneath the soil. Parushta batted at an unearthed lizard, but she was unsure what to do with it.

As I worked, Rabiah slept by my feet, affectionately resting her head on my foot. She rarely took notice of potential prey, but I could not ask for a better companion, other than my dear Hanif, who insisted that I not work in the fields until after the baby arrived.

Seeing the angle of the sun, I went into the kitchen to prepare our noon meal. Hanif entered as I was chopping leeks, radishes, and cabbage.

"How's our child?" he asked, stepping behind me and grasping my arms, his strong hands gently caressing our unborn baby.

I turned to face my husband, noting his tender gaze and affectionate smile. "I'm having trouble waiting for our little one too, but Taweret has been good to us." I kissed him. "Would you mind getting some water while I prepare the cucumbers, please?"

"Of course, my darling."

By the time I finished cutting the vegetables, Hanif still hadn't returned from the well, so I went out to see what had detained him. To my astonishment, the water was red.

"What happened?!" I asked.

"At first, I thought red clay had somehow managed to get into our well, but it's not clay." He knelt and lifted a handful.

I dipped my finger into the water he held and let a drop run off and fall onto my tongue, but at the taste, I immediately winced.

"What creature died in our well?!" I exclaimed.

Hanif sighed wearily. "I'll get some water from the Iterw and deal with this mess after lunch."

As he walked toward the nearest canal, I went back inside to finish what I could of our noon meal. However, Hanif arrived home much sooner than expected. His eyes were wide with horror.

"All of it!" he exclaimed. "The Iterw has always been the lifeblood of Asar, but now it truly is blood, and so is everything else! The canals! The wells! Everything! It's all blood!"

I stared in disbelief. The situation didn't seem as if it could be real. Surely I would awaken at any moment and realize I was merely suffering a horrific nightmare.

"Great gods, how have we displeased you?" I asked silently. "Show us how we may atone for whatever wrong we have done. If we deserve your wrath, punish us as you see fit, but please spare our innocent baby."

Hanif took my hand. "I'm going to Goshen. Aviyah is heard and respected by the Hebrew gods. Perhaps they will tell him what we must do. I'll be back soon. In the meantime, try to rest."

"Wherever you go, I go too."

My husband insisted that for my sake, we delay our trip long enough to eat. I agreed, so I hid my impatience. Being without water made little difference to me during the meal, for Hanif had overheard one foreign _sewnu_ at the market mention to another that milk strengthened expectant mothers and eased delivery, as long as the mother did not drink it in excess. That being, my husband insisted that I have milk with one meal each day. Although I felt smothered at times, his concern and dedication to my health and the baby's safe arrival was touching.

When we had finished our meal, Hanif asked if I needed to ride instead of walk. I let him know I was alright, gently reminding him that a little exercise and fresh air would benefit the baby and myself. Besides, it was too hot to impose work on our livestock without water.

As we walked, we were followed by Hanif's little dog, Amenrut. He was certainly energetic, but I soon tired. Hanif helped me sit under the shade of a palm tree, but there was nothing to be done about my thirst. Walking in the hot sun had quickly caused me to dehydrate. My throat felt as if it had been rubbed raw, and I could barely speak.

"Wait here, my love." Hanif lightly gripped my shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment."

I lay half asleep until my husband returned. It seemed I had been walking for weeks, even though it had been less than an hour. Was there no escape from this terrible day? Was Inpu coming for me? What would happen to my baby?

"Anit?"

I opened my eyes to see Hanif's arm extended. I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet.

"I brought some tools."

Trusting my husband, although I failed to see what use farm tools would be, I made no reply.

"Do you think you can make it to the river?"

I silently followed him to the edge of the city. Although the journey was ordinarily a short walk, it took much longer than usual.

As soon as we reached the banks, Hanif began digging. Realizing why he had brought the tools, I knelt beside him, joining his quest for any groundwater that may still be pure. I was unable to work quickly, but I refused to give up hope. Somewhere beneath the rich soil was water, and for the sake of my baby, I intended to find it.

Amenrut began by sniffing the ground as we dug. He then pawed at the earth for a short while, but finding nothing of interest, he napped in the shade while we worked.

After what seemed an eternity, our search was rewarded with a small pool of muddy water. I plunged my entire head into the cool relief, lifting my face to the sky so the water would run down my back and neck to cool my entire body.

"Slowly," Hanif reminded me.

I cupped my hands and brought a mouthful of water to my lips, not caring that Amenrut was already lapping the pool with his tongue. The purest well had never produced such sweet water as this muddy pool. My spirit revived at once.

"We did it!" I exclaimed jubilantly.

Hanif and I drank until the pool was dry. There had been very little water, but it had benefited us both greatly.

Only as we turned to go did I realize that although I had taken three handfuls of water, there had only been one for Hanif. I knew my husband had purposely allowed me to have most of the water, and I felt guilty about all I had wasted.

As we walked, Hanif carried the tools he had brought, but although I frequently needed to stop and rest, we didn't have to dig for water a second time. The next time I became overheated, we were on the outskirts of Goshen. A group of Hebrew children stared at us incredulously, no doubt wondering what trouble the Kemetians wished to cause.

"Where is the man called Aviyah?" Hanif asked.

The children stared, becoming even more skeptical when he repeated the question in Hebrew. One of them ran off, presumably to tell his parents of our arrival.

Amenrut stared at the children, but he sat calmly by Hanif's feet, panting heavily. The dog had enjoyed our jaunt to Goshen, but he had finally tired himself out.

" _Iiwy!_ " a voice greeted in our native language. "We've been expecting you!"

Turning, I saw a Hebrew couple that I immediately guessed to be Aviyah and Varda. They still seemed strong, even though their hair had already silvered.

Varda walked over to me and grabbed my arm. "You come right in here and rest, dear. You must be exhausted."

I made no effort to resist. I was too weary even to argue politely about not wanting to impose before I accepted her invitation.

The smallness of their home surprised me. This hut contained only one room barely large enough for two people, let alone four. There was no furniture whatsoever, only pillows where someone could sit.

Varda lay a quilt on a pallet on the floor, arranging pillows on top. "Do you think you'll be comfortable here?"

Of course I wasn't going to be comfortable. I missed my bed already. However, I understood that these people were offering me the best they had, so why should I turn up my nose?

"You must be thirsty. Lie down, and I'll get you some water."

Despite the thinness of the pallet, the pillows felt wonderful under my back. The relief of taking weight off my swollen ankles was incredible. As if adding his or her approval, my baby stirred within me.

The water Varda brought was cool and pure, much sweeter than the water we had dug from the ground.

" _Dua Netjer en etj!_ " I murmured appreciatively.

I relished the feeling of it gently washing over my tongue and soothing my parched throat. Hearing the sound of a tongue lapping water, I knew that Aviyah had provided a bit for Amenrut as well. No doubt my husband was quenching his thirst at the nearest well.

Hanif stepped into the house with Aviyah. My husband immediately walked over to where I lay, kneeling beside me.

"Are you feeling better, my love?" he asked gently.

I smiled. "Much."

He lightly kissed my forehead before standing to address Aviyah. "Now that we can talk alone, my wife and I have something to ask."

"You want to know why the waters have turned to blood as punishment," Aviyah stated.

Hanif frowned. "Punishment? What have we done?"

"It is your _paroh_ ," replied Aviyah. "Things will only get worse until he decides to listen."

"To your gods?"

"To our God."

I had been confused about the word _paroh_ , but then I remembered it was the title the Hebrews had given Nisu, inspired by our word for the grandeur of his palace and household.

My husband sighed. "My wife carries our first child. Our grief would be immeasurable if…"

"Perhaps she should stay here," Varda suggested. "The two of you are such a young couple, and it's obvious that you care very deeply for each other. Why don't you both stay until the plagues pass?"

"I have to work my farm," Hanif answered. "However, I suppose I could return here each night. I do have coins."

"Instead of coins, you could help us," stated Aviyah. "On days when you're unable to tend your own farm, perhaps you would help us tend ours."

"And if my wife's time comes before Nisu releases you…"

"We know a highly skilled midwife," Varda assured us. "She's helped with even the worst complications, and her mannerisms are warm and kind."

I heard no more of the conversation, for I drifted off to sleep, too exhausted to feel curiosity about the Hebrew God or ponder how to return the kindness of our hosts.


	6. Chapter 6

All Kemetians were troubled by the lack of water, but for Hanif, the red tint of blood brought unpleasant memories. As he lay beside me that night, he began to tell me of his family, one of the few things we rarely mentioned in conversation because my husband found it too painful. He was hesitant to discuss them at first, for he didn't want to frighten me in my delicate condition, but I insisted on hearing it so I could ease his pain, even if all I could do was listen.

Hanif's father, Altakhsas, had been the only son of a wealthy merchant, although the couple had prayed for more children. However, just before he was old enough to be considered a man, Altakhsas lost his father to a disease caused by the habit of consuming too much palm wine. The late merchant's wife was forced to sell most of their worldly goods to support her son.

The gods blessed the small farm that was the family's only remaining property, and the handsome face and toned muscles of the youthful Altakhsas won him many female admirers. However, he had no time for courting young ladies, for he was busy in the field from before dawn until long after dusk to support his aging mother.

She never complained, but Altakhsas thought perhaps his mother might be lonely, for her aging bones ached too much for her to journey to the marketplace and talk with other women, and the small cat she kept for companionship was unable to speak any human tongue. Having given the matter much thought, Altakhsas purchased a Kushite slave woman who had no family or friends in Kemet, thinking that perhaps she would be the ideal friend for the elderly woman.

Nensela certainly proved her worth. She was an excellent housekeeper, often singing as she worked, her voice as sweet as that of a goddess. She often told stories to amuse her aging companion, and she even helped the old woman take short walks around the garden to enjoy the fresh air and warmth of the sunshine.

Altakhsas was well pleased to see his mother so happy, and he treated Nensela kindly, often bringing her a trinket from the market to show his appreciation. Sometimes she brought him a pitcher of cool juice as he harvested grain, or she would accompany him on hunts and help him capture game.

"Why do you not marry?" the old woman wondered aloud. "The gods have brought you together so I may embrace grandchildren before I die."

The more Altakhsas considered the matter, the more he realized his mother was right. He had indeed come to love the gentle Nensela, and when he spoke of marriage, she confessed that she had long since fallen in love with this hardworking young man who cared so much for his family, so they were wed.

Nensela bore a son and called him Iuaa, but to her immeasurable grief, the baby caught a fever and died before he had lived a full two years. Overcome with sorrow, Nensela thought to drown herself in the Iterw, but just as she began wading, she felt the fluttering movements within her body that were a sign of new life. Unwilling to kill her unborn baby, she returned home.

Happiness was never to grace their home. Although Nensela bore many children, all were killed by disease, envenomation, wild animal attacks, or natural accidents, such as drowning. One was even kidnapped.

Hanif felt most guilty over the death of his twin brother, Mered. As the two had been doing chores, Mered had asked if Hanif had any plans for that evening.

Hanif shrugged. "I hadn't made any."

"Want to sneak into a rich man's party and watch dancing girls?"

The two boys were nearly men, old enough to begin feeling attracted to women and having questions, but not yet old enough to marry.

"Father will have us beaten," Hanif warned. "You know how he feels about sneaking off."

Although their father never hit them hard enough to leave marks, the beating still stung worse than a nest of wasps.

"Come on!" Mered coaxed. "Father will never know!"

Hanif considered the idea, eventually allowing himself to be persuaded.

After the family had gone to sleep for the evening, the two boys managed to sneak into town. The party was easy to find, for it was the only loud noise of the silent city.

Peeping through a window, they saw the dancers. Their supple limbs stretched and turned delicately, their feet barely skimming the ground. Even the goddesses could not be as graceful or beautiful. One of the young women looked like the long-lost Hasina, but perhaps it was only their imagination.

Hearing the sound of a door opening, the boys fled, fearing discovery, but as the lights of the party faded, they realized they had taken a wrong turn. Insisting that he knew a shortcut back to their farm, Mered led the way through the nearest patch of woodland. Hanif no longer wished to proceed, but he was unsure of his way back to the city, so he followed his brother, fearing they had become hopelessly lost.

The boys soon came upon a clearing, where they stopped to rest. Hanif was so frightened that he was trembling. Even Mered no longer seemed sure of himself.

"Don't worry." Hanif offered his brother some leaves. "We can eat these to give us strength. We'll be home soon."

Unfortunately, he had been mistaken about the plant's identity. Hanif fell into a delirium, frequently vomiting. By the time a hunter found him the following day, Mered was already dead. His body had been chewed by a lioness. Hanif never knew if the poisonous plant killed his brother or if the lioness had slain him during his illness.

Nensela gave thanks for her surviving son, but the loss of Mered caused her to miscarry the life that had begun to form inside her. Hanif blamed himself for not talking Mered out of sneaking to the party. If he had refused, Mered would still be alive, and the baby would not have died before its birth.

Nensela was inconsolable. She had birthed over a dozen children and adopted two others, and only one had reached the age where his body was experiencing changes that heralded the arrival of adulthood.

When leprosy struck the family a few years later, the stress on her body sent Nensela into premature labor with the final baby she carried. No woman would serve as _tjemset_ , for who would risk becoming a leper?

"It doesn't matter," Nensela sighed sadly. "My children never survive anyway."

She and the baby died together. Despite his own grief, Hanif was forced to work even harder to support his father, who was weakened not only from sorrow, but from his own bout of leprosy. No merchant was willing to do business with a leper, and his affected limbs would no longer allow him to tend his field.

When Hanif was recently orphaned, he had discovered a leprous spot on his face. Rather than being frightened at the thought of a slow, torturous death, he rejoiced. His mourning over his lost parents and siblings would finally be at an end.

However, as the disease progressed, Hanif was unable to bear the pain. Furthermore, he considered that perhaps it was more suitable that he should survive so his parents would have at least one child who lived to honor their memory. Doctors were of no help, and neither were the gods, so Hanif began begging other people to beseech their gods for his health.

The Berbers and Nubians were no help. They wished only to stay as far from the leper as possible, lest the horrendous disease also affect them. Finally, a Hebrew man had agreed to pray for Hanif, but the man stated that they must keep a certain distance between them. Desperate enough to try anything, Hanif agreed, and the Hebrew, Aviyah, had prayed to his God that Hanif's life might be spared.

When this prayer was answered, Hanif thought to marry, hoping that perhaps a wife would make him feel less lonely. He searched the cities for anyone who had known his father, but most people who had known Altakhsas also knew of the tragic curse that plagued his family. They dared not offer their daughters to be the wife of such a hapless man.

My father, however, had believed Hanif was blessed, for how else could he have survived? Surely the gods had chosen him for a special purpose, and who's to say they wouldn't also honor his wife?

"That's when I met you," Hanif concluded, pulling me closer. "I'm so afraid, Anit. I've lost my entire family, and now I'm finally beginning to hope again. If anything should happen to you or the baby…"

"It won't." I snuggled up to him. "We're in Goshen now. The Hebrew God who saved your life watches over Goshen. He won't let our baby die."

My husband tenderly stroked my hair until I fell asleep in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

When Hanif returned to Goshen at the end of each day, followed by faithful Amenrut, I asked for news. Although he tried to spare me from hearing the most dreadful events, I insisted.

The waters of Kemet, which had always been considered the lifeblood of the gods themselves, were still truly blood, causing the stench of dead fish to permeate the air. At first, the only struggle had been finding water, but now it was difficult to breathe.

Many people quickly died without water, especially children and the elderly. Without enough water for themselves, people could hardly be expected to provide for their livestock, so many animals perished of thirst as well. Vultures covered the skies like dark clouds, and jackals grew bolder.

Desperate for relief, groups of people had tried working together to dig a large pit of groundwater, which would then be rationed out daily, but no matter how long they dug, they never found enough water for more than a few people. Women brought vessels to store water in their homes.

"The fish are dead. Most of the livestock will be. The wild animals seem intelligent enough to have deserted this area," Hanif concluded. "Even if the river were healed tomorrow, a lot of people would still die of starvation."

An entire week passed with blood throughout the land in every stream, river, pond, and well. There was no clean water to be found other than what was dug from the banks of the river and what remained in the wells of Goshen. As if the stench of rotting fish wasn't bad enough, the lack of water made it impossible for people to wash themselves.

"Although I do pity the innocent who suffer because of Nisu," Varda remarked, "it seems fitting, in a way, that the river is blood. The previous _nisu_ commanded that every male born to us should be drowned. Kemet finally got its wish for the river to run with the blood of our children."

I was sickened at the thought. How would I feel if someone murdered my baby? The grief was unfathomable! I wondered if Varda had lost sons and nephews to the river, but I dared not ask.

As if hearing my thoughts, Varda continued her story.

When she had come to the birthing stool with her first son, she had been blessed with a courageous _tjemset_ who chose to obey God rather than Nisu. As soon as the baby had entered the world, the _tjemset_ had jubilantly announced the arrival of a girl, in case anyone who had heard the mother's cries was now eavesdropping. Aviyah and Varda had given their son a girl's name and bought girl's toys for him until he was of the age where he was no longer in danger.

Varda's second child had also been male, but this time, Nisu's guards were not so easily deceived. Desperate to save her son, Varda had offered herself as a servant to a family of Berbers if they would allow the child to live among them until he had passed his infancy. Being with child herself, the Berber mother had readily agreed, and her husband made no objection. To this day, the two families remain close friends.

The other three children born to Varda had been female. All five were now grown and had their own families.

"You were most fortunate," I remarked after she had finished her story.

"Not fortunate," she replied. "Blessed."

"Of course."

The door opened, and Hanif burst into the room. "The river is healed! Water flows once more!"

I followed him to the nearest irrigation ditch outside of Goshen, stepping into the water and enjoying the coolness around my ankles. Children laughed and splashed each other.

However, I noticed that the Hebrews made no preparations to leave, so I knew Nisu had still not relented. There would be another severe punishment.

I decided to visit my family before the next tribulation. Their farm wasn't nearly as far from Goshen as ours, so the walk would no doubt be beneficial.

The morning I left, I bade farewell to Hanif, promising I would return to Goshen in a few days. Varda handed me a basket of bread and cheese in case I grew hungry during my journey.

When I arrived, my mother hurried over to embrace me. "Thank the gods you are well! Hanif says you've been staying in Goshen."

"Just until the baby is born," I answered. "We don't know what lies ahead. Did you find manage to find water?"

"The livestock provided milk, although not as much as usual."

My brother's wife rested her hand on my waist. "Hello! This is your Aunt Zahra!"

"When will I get to do this to you?" I queried.

She sighed sadly. "I fear Dhouti and I are unable to have children. We've considered consulting a _sewnu_."

To my surprise, even Pelkha was agreeable. She asked me if I was happy being married, and when I answered that I was, my sister asked what it was like carrying new life.

"You'll know for yourself someday," I replied.

She blushed. "I've met someone. Father says he'll try to arrange the marriage as soon as this time of trouble is over."

I was surprised to hear that Pelkha had fallen in love, but I knew she would make a fine wife, for she was dutiful and industrious in matters of housework.

"What is the name of this charmer who woos my sister?" I asked.

"Benipe." She smiled as she spoke her love's name. "His father was a blacksmith."

I squeezed her hand. " _Aw ibetj!_ "

That night I lay awake for the longest time, repeatedly kicked by the life within me. When my baby finally settled, I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the distant croaking of frogs.

However, the frog sounds became louder and more frequent, waking me from my slumber. Unable to sleep, I stepped outside, enjoying the coolness of the night air. To my surprise, the entire ground seemed alive with frogs. It seemed as if every tadpole in Kemet had instantly turned into a frog, and all had left their native waters on the same night. Judging from the distant protests of livestock, some of the frogs had made their way into the barn.

Hearing a scream, I hurried to my sister's room. Pelkha was breathing heavily with her hand over her chest.

"I'm alright," she assured me. "I was just startled by the unexpected movement."

The corner of her room was alive with tiny frogs.

"Beloved Heket," my sister prayed, "we thank you for this sign that you are watching over Anit as the child grows inside her and that you will care for her as her time comes to deliver. Now that we have seen this wonder and offer you praise, we humbly beseech you to allow these frogs to return to the water, that they may live in a way that is pleasing to you."

Before dawn, the frogs had invaded every part of the house. They took refuge in the oven, the kneading trough, and every other crevice of every room of the house. My flesh crawled each time one of the slimy creatures jumped against my bare ankle.

Hanif knocked on the door. "I hate to shorten your visit with your family, but I've noticed a lot of frogs on my way home, and I thought you might be more comfortable in Goshen."

I embraced my family members, bidding them, " _Senebti!_ "

My brother smiled. " _Nefer sedjmetj_."

Kissing Hanif, I turned back for Goshen as he continued his journey to our farm.


	8. Chapter 8

Hanif brought news that the frogs had spread throughout every part of Kemet, even invading the stables and barns. People and animals were covered in frogs, and it was nearly impossible to go anywhere without accidentally stepping on one. Killing a frog would be a great sin against the gods, for frogs are sacred.

For many days, the people of Kemet were plagued by the incessant sound of croaking and the slimy feeling of frogs leaping against them. Food was contaminated by the presence of these small creatures.

Worse still was when the frogs began to die. The stench was unbearable as people piled the carcasses into heaps. Although the scent was horrific to humans, it was as perfume and incense to flies, who swarmed to lay their eggs. Maggots writhed in the decomposing flesh.

"Mark my words," Hanif concluded. "The death of fish and frogs will cause an increase in insects. Without their natural predators, they'll have nothing to stop them."

Whenever I asked about my family or friends, he assured me that they were well, also letting me know that our own livestock were strong and healthy.

To my surprise, Varda's youngest daughter and her husband came to visit one evening. Tirtzah was close to my age, and she had a young child who missed nothing, looking up with big eyes as she toddled around and chewed her thumb.

"Look, Hodiyah." Tirtzah picked up her daughter. "See her big tummy? God is going to bless her with a baby."

Hodiyah spent the rest of the evening toddling over to me to rub my swollen waist, no doubt wondering what my weight had to do with a baby. She also kept staring at Hanif and me, curious to know why our skin tone was different than hers.

"Is she bothering you?" Tirtzah asked as I helped cut vegetables for supper.

"Not at all," I replied.

"You two are naturals. You'll be great parents."

"When we are, I hope we can stay in touch."

Tirtzah smiled. "Someday you will come to visit us in our new land, and we'll prepare supper there."

"I'd like that."

I noticed after our meal that Hodiyah had managed to convince Hanif to tell her a story, only to fall asleep on his lap with her little head resting against his broad shoulder.

"Your arms are around another woman!" I teased.

My husband laughed. "You can never tell. Perhaps you carry a daughter. Then I'll frequently be embracing another woman, someone younger than you."

"And prettier?"

"That remains to be seen."

Once when Hanif returned from a day of tending our farm, he was covered in small, red bumps. He explained that the people and livestock of Kemet were being eaten alive by small creatures, mostly flying insects, although some did crawl or jump. It was as if Geb had caused every speck of dust in Kemet to come alive, irritating our animals, as well as making them unfit for food or sacrifice.

"Will it ever end?" I asked, covering his insect bites with goose fat and oil. "There are some who fear the torment is only beginning."

"It will end," he assured me. "Nisu will soon realize his refusal is futile against the Hebrew God."

Before Hanif left the following morning, Aviyah asked him to kneel. He then placed his hand on my husband's head and prayed protection over him. Aviyah's God must have heeded his prayers once more, for when Hanif returned to Goshen that evening, he mentioned that he had not been swarmed as he had the previous day. Hanif then asked if Aviyah would entreat his God to spare our livestock, and Aviyah was willing.

When Hanif returned, he reported that the insects had been far less numerous around our farm than they had been the previous day. However, no one else seemed to have found a respite from the swarms.

Every day before Hanif left, Aviyah beseeched his God to protect my husband and our farm, and when Hanif returned to Goshen, he brought good news of our livestock.

"Nisu's magicians have apparently been attempting to duplicate each act of your God," he informed Aviyah, "but rumor has it that they could not duplicate this one. They claim it is the finger of God."

"They're right about that," Aviyah replied. "It seems the hearts of the people of Kemet are beginning to turn."

"It's not our hearts you have to convince," answered Hanif. "We would have dismissed you as soon as we noticed our waters were troubled. Nisu's people, not to mention the entire economy, will be completed destroyed if he continues his arrogance. I can only pray we'll survive long enough to see the end of it."

To keep myself busy, I helped milk the goats that belonged to the Hebrew family. Since I had lived on a farm my entire life, I was quite used to the task. I even enjoyed the bleating of goats as a change from the chatter of the market. Varda often helped me with this task, and the two of us would converse pleasantly as we worked.

Most of the goats were decent enough, but Serach prided herself on how much trouble she could make. She gave more milk than any of the other goats or sheep, but she often tried to chew my hair or butt me with her horns.

Varda always assured me that it was through no fault of my own. Serach had been stubborn since before birth. Her mother, Yael, had died in labor because Serach refused to enter the world without a struggle.

However, Serach's fighting spirit did have its uses. No goats had been lost to predators since Serach had reached adulthood; thus the flock had nearly tripled in size.

When I heard Varda's story, my mind slipped. What about when my time came to give birth? Surely it wouldn't be much longer now.

As if hearing my thoughts, Varda stated, "Don't even think about it!"

"I'm nervous," I confessed.

"But unlike a goat, you know how to speak. You can tell the midwife exactly what's happening so she can help you."

"Is it awful?"

Varda squeezed my hand. "When the midwife places your child in your arms, you'll forget the severity of your pains. We'll find you someone who can comfort you and help you get the worst over as quickly as possible, so there's really no need to worry."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"When your time comes, we'll even send for any friends or family you want beside you."

That sounded lovely. Surely my mother would come, for she would be eager to meet her first grandchild. Zahra would be a great comfort to me, and Pelkha would remind me to be strong.

I wondered if the baby would look more like Hanif or myself. I thought a little girl with her father's eyes and my hair would be lovely, but a son with his father's face and my smile would be quite handsome.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. All I wanted was a healthy child who would reach adulthood and provide us comfort in our old age.

I could only pray the troubles of Kemet would have passed by then.


	9. Chapter 9

Although the biting insects had been troublesome, worse times were in store for Kemet. Nisu still refused to heed the command of the Hebrew God to release those of Goshen, so Kemet was still seen as worthy of punishment.

Thick clouds of flies swarmed humans and livestock, delivering painful bites. Animals found no respite from the blinding droves that gathered around their eyes and nostrils. People also experienced the horrific bites, which left nasty puncture wounds surrounded by huge welts.

"The incessant buzzing is the least of our worries," Hanif stated.

With the flies came mosquitoes, whose bites only augmented the suffering of all people except the Hebrews of Goshen. Khepri was powerless to protect his people.

As if the trouble from the air wasn't bad enough, serpents and scorpions swarmed the ground. The very creatures depicted on Nisu's headdress were now destroying his subjects.

When I heard my sister had been stung, I insisted on seeing her. Hanif tried to dissuade me, saying it was far too dangerous and that there was something he hadn't told me. Besides, the stress might endanger the baby.

However, I would hear none of it. I insisted on seeing my sister at once, for I knew I would have no peace until I saw for myself that she would survive.

Seeing that there was no dissuading me, Hanif insisted that I join him for Aviyah's prayers the following morning. Since I would have trouble rising after kneeling, I simply lowered my head in deference to his God as Aviyah prayed for my protection and my sister's healing.

Hanif insisted on walking with me to my family's farm, even though I knew the way well. He said nothing, but I noticed he anxiously glanced in all directions as we walked.

"My love, what's wrong?" I asked.

Kissing me, my husband took my hands in his. "I don't want to worry you, dearest one, but promise me you will go nowhere after sunset or before dawn."

"I promise."

I wanted to ask why, but I knew he didn't want to frighten me. Flies buzzed everywhere as we walked, but they didn't bother us, thanks to Aviyah's prayers, or rather, thanks to his God.

Hanif walked with me until I was safely in my parents' home, promising to return before the sun had set. I embraced him farewell before going to see my sister.

Pelkha was lying in bed, her foot red and swollen. Her breathing sounded unusual, and although she could barely move her own head, her muscles would occasionally twitch. I tried not to notice the saliva that dripped from her mouth or the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Hungry. I can't keep any food in my stomach," she responded. "You shouldn't have come."

"I was worried about you."

"The _sewnu_ says I'll live." With great effort, she rested her slightly twitching hand on my waist. "How's that baby?"

"I get kicked a lot," I answered.

The door opened, and Dhouti walked in with a basket of fruit, which was already covered in flies. He swatted one that had landed on his arm.

My family members were all covered in so many bug bites that they looked as if they had developed a horrible disease. They scratched the bites constantly, and no amount of goose fat or oil seemed to relieve the itch.

Seeing Ari, who was growing plump from the easy meal of hordes of scorpions and serpents, made me miss my own mongooses, the huntress Shadya and gentle Rabiah.

"How are the other animals?" I asked, rubbing behind Ari's ears.

Father sighed. "We have somehow angered the gods. Hippopotami and crocodiles are becoming even more fearsome. There have already been twelve attacks on humans this week. I've lost three sheep to jackals, and your sister's future husband, Benipe, has lost his family's only cow to wolves."

I frowned. Attacks on livestock were not uncommon, and we had been taught from an early age that the hippo and the crocodile were Kemet's most deadly animals, but increasing aggression from all species at the same time was highly unusual.

Father had more bad news. When returning home from the market, he had been stalked by a leopard. Only by ducking into a nearby barn and closing the door had he managed to save his life. He ignored the painful bites of the flies, which swarmed him as mercilessly as they tormented the livestock.

The leopard had roared as it clawed at the door, trying to find a way to capture its quarry. When the owner of the barn came out to investigate the noise, the leopard sprang, killing him before his wife and children. The victim was still in the throes between life and death as the creature began dragging away the body. As soon as the leopard had left, Father had hurried home.

Dhouti added his own tale, claiming that as he had been on his way to the river the previous day, he had overheard a group of men discussing how a lion had managed to break into someone's home and kill the man and his wife as they slept. The group also mentioned an incident involving a hunter and his dog who were gored and trampled to death by wild cattle.

"It's these accursed insects!" he concluded. "Too many of them, and the entire balance of nature is upset!"

When I walked with Zahra to feed the livestock, I scarcely recognized my family's animals. The innumerable flies covered them as living coats, and the suffering victims were so slender that their ribs were clearly visible. Furthermore, my parents had far fewer animals than I had remembered, likely because predators and disease had taken their toll.

Despite Ari's finest efforts, rats were out of control around the granary. I saw a horned viper in the process of swallowing a rat, but the other rodents were so undeterred that they continued to scramble for grain only a cubit away from the predator.

"Come to Goshen!" I pleaded. "Even a tent would be better than this!"

"Your father won't want to abandon his farm," Zahra reminded me, "and neither will my husband."

"If the gods will take it, then they shall have it. Who can fight against them?"

"I'll talk to Dhouti," she promised.

Late in the hours of the night, I heard the bellowing of oxen. Hurrying to the nearest window, I saw what had to be the largest lion in the history of Kemet dragging down my family's strongest ox.

Just after dawn, I was awakened yet again. At first I thought I had been startled by yet another noise, but then I realized the opposite had come to pass. For the first time since I had left Goshen, there was complete silence.

The flies had disappeared. It seemed the other animals had vanished with them. Not the slightest trace remained of the unwelcome visitors. Rather than remaining in decomposing piles as the frogs had done, they all seemed to have left while still alive.

Zahra promised that she would still discuss the idea of coming to Goshen with Dhouti and Father in case more troubles came, and to my relief, Pelkha seemed to be recovering from her scorpion sting. Life seemed to be slowly returning to normal.

When Hanif arrived that evening, I asked him how many animals we had lost to the marauders, and he said our livestock had survived the nocturnal visitors. He had seen wolves on our farm the previous evening, but they had been more interested in attacking a wild boar that had wandered into our fields than killing our livestock.

"In a way, their presence was a blessing," he stated. "That boar kept the wolves from harming our animals, and the wolves kept the boar from uprooting our crops."

I wondered if the Hebrew God had arranged the meeting to save our farm, but I had other things to occupy my mind at the moment, such as the pains I was beginning to feel.


	10. Chapter 10

"It's perfectly normal," Varda assured me. "You'll feel pains occasionally until the baby is born."

"But how will I know when to send for the midwife?" I asked.

"Trust me. You'll know."

I tenderly finished the final stitches for the blanket I had been sewing for my baby. I was ready to hold my son or daughter and hear little gurgles. How much longer would I have to wait?

"I suppose Betzalel is waiting for us," Varda stated.

Betzalel was her firstborn son. His wife, Nurit, had invited us over for supper. I assumed she would be an excellent cook, for she was a rather plump woman, and I was not disappointed, for although the meal was simple fare, everything had a wonderful flavor.

Aviyah told his son how Hanif and I had been describing the horrors of the rest of Kemet, but how the Hebrew God had protected our farm. Betzalel seemed rather surprised to hear that his God was showing mercy to an Kemetian couple, but he said nothing.

"Do you believe in our God?" Nurit queried.

Her question took me completely by surprise. I had been raised my entire life to worship the gods of Kemet. Did I believe in the existence of the Hebrew God? He certainly seemed to have some sort of power if insects could distinguish between Goshen and the rest of Kemet. Surely at least one of the gods was causing these troubles to befall the Kemetians, but was it really the God of Hebrews?

Perhaps it was. After all, why would any Kemetian god send suffering throughout the entire land, sparing only the area where the Hebrew slaves dwelt? If the Hebrew God was indeed more powerful than our own gods, what did that mean for everything I had been taught to believe?

The swarms of biting insects had taken their toll. Livestock began to fall victim to the diseases the flies and mosquitoes had transmitted. However, the animals of Goshen remained alive and healthy.

Although Kemet has always prided itself on having doctors trained to treat horses, there was no set pattern of symptoms, as if the animals succumbed to a variety of diseases, nor was there any known cure. That being, prevention was impossible.

"Be honest with me. How many have we lost?" I asked Hanif.

"None, dearest love," he answered.

"And do rats overrun our granary?"

"Not with two mongooses."

Hanif spoke with confidence, as if he actually expected our prosperity not only to continue, but also increase. Ours was one of the few farms in Kemet with a significant number of live animals. Despite the surrounding desolation and severe poverty, we were not economically ruined. Surely this was the hand of the Hebrew God.

My parents lost every animal on their farm, even Ari, the mongoose who had faithfully guarded their granary. Hanif assured me that we would offer them a few of our animals after the murrain had passed.

Not only did the loss of animals devastate farmers, who depended on them for milk, food, and help ploughing the fields, but it was also a great economical loss for merchants, who depended on animals for transportation, and the soldiers of Kemet, who needed horses for their chariots.

"I must see for myself," I stated.

My maternal instincts were already beginning, and I could barely stand the thought of anyone going hungry.

"You don't want to see," Hanif insisted. "I'm afraid I must insist."

"I need to see my family," I answered.

"Not this time."

I pretend to defer to him, as I had been taught a good wife must. However, when Hanif left for our farm the following day, I waited less than an hour before setting out to visit my parents.

Not every animal in Kemet had been stricken with this pestilence, but those who survived were very few, and they hardly seemed healthy. Any thriving animals could only owe their fortune to the Hebrew God, for Hathor was proven powerless.

Halfway to my parents' home, I suddenly burst into tears. When would the Hebrews be free to leave? Would I see Kemet entirely destroyed? How many more plagues would smite my homeland? How much longer would I be forced to wait in Goshen, wondering about my own farm as I heard news of devastation all around me? What if my family didn't survive? What about my baby? When it was born, would it even have a home, or would it live forever as a refugee in Goshen?

Unable to continue my journey, I turned back. Varda said nothing when I returned. She simply continued her task of making bread.

"It's horrible," I remarked.

"That it is," she agreed. "I wish innocent people didn't have to suffer simply to prove a point to Paroh."

I suddenly realized it must be frustrating for the Hebrews as well. They believed that each time Kemet fell into a state of turmoil, it would bring their liberation, but every time Nisu saw that the suffering had ended, he changed his mind.

"Have you lost hope?" I wondered aloud.

"We've been promised our liberation for four centuries," she answered. "That's four hundred years of people wondering if we'd leave in the next hour or the next year or the next decade. After so many decades of false hope, it's easy to be consumed by the disappointment. I had hoped my children would be born free. When that didn't happen, I hoped my grandchildren would be."

I kept silent as I kneaded the dough.

"God hasn't given up. At the right time, we will indeed leave Kemet for our promised land. However, now that we're so close to liberty, the wait is even harder. How much longer do we have to spend thinking each day that we'll be free to go the next? Some of us are beginning to think these punishments against Nisu will last for years."

I certainly hoped not! We Kemetians would be driven from our own land before the Hebrews were ever released.

For the first time in my life, I prayed to the Hebrew God, asking for the liberation of those in Goshen. I could only wonder if a Kemetian's prayer would be heeded.


	11. Chapter 11

Humans weren't immune to the diseases that were claiming the lives of so many animals. Lesions burst forth on all living creatures. These seemed to be caused by a combination of illnesses.

Some of the sores seemed to be caused by serious burns. The victims' skin was as wax or leather with a charred black or pure white area around the painful swelling and open flesh. People with more minor cases had reddened skin with blisters.

Other boils seemed to be the sign of a disease. In addition to the changed outward appearance, the victims also experienced fever, fatigue, headache, severe back pain, and nausea.

Doctors treated some sores with honey, moldy bread, or copper salt. However, many people died, despite the physicians' finest care. Many prayers were offered to Aset and other gods, but to no avail.

Not only were the people of Kemet dying of the illnesses that caused sores, but the livestock continued to perish as well. They too succumbed to lesions.

I was surprised to see Pelkha arrive in Goshen. I embraced my sister to welcome her, but I could tell something was wrong.

"He's gone!" Tears streamed down her face. "Benipe is dead!"

Although I had never met the man she loved, I wept at my sister's grief. I couldn't imagine the pain of losing Hanif.

"I was supposed to be a bride!" Pelkha sobbed. "I was supposed to have beautiful children, like you will!" She threw her arms around me again. "I loved him so much! We didn't even get to start our life together, and now I have to live without him!"

He had caught a disease from being around the rats that swarmed his granary. Red welts with hideous, dark centers covered his body, and swellings appeared on his neck and beneath his arms. His flesh was literally eaten away by the disease, and he bled from his mouth, nose, and beneath his skin. As his fever rose, so did his nausea and pain. Finally, he had succumbed to his fatigue.

I wanted to tell her she would be reunited with her beloved in the Field of Reeds, but I couldn't find the right words. Pelkha was industrious and practical and would easily find innumerable men who would gladly make her their wife, but was it possible to love again after having lost someone who had captured one's entire heart?

Would my sister's face ever again be beautiful? Her tears no doubt caused the sores beneath her eyes to sting worse, yet she hardly seemed to notice. Would she always bear hideous scars?

I wondered if my baby would enter this world before Benipe had made a proper exit. After my sister's beloved was embalmed, his body would be taken to the tomb with a procession of dancers and mourners.

As if hearing my thoughts, Pelkha remarked, "His sister asked me to be Aset."

During the funeral, relatives would stand at the side of Benipe's coffin. Pelkha would apparently be dressed as Aset, and the deceased's sister would likely claim the role of Nebet Hut. They would be the chief mourners.

When the entire procession had crossed to the western side of the Nile, the priests would ritually open Benipe's mouth so he would be able to use all his senses in the afterlife. He would then be sealed in his tomb with everything he would need in the next world while all the living who were present participated in the funerary banquet.

"Do you think all his souls will be at peace?!" Pelkha asked.

Having never met Benipe, I didn't have the first idea, but I reassured my sister that he would have a peaceful and joyful afterlife.

"But what if Ammut devours him?!"

If the demoness devoured his heart, Benipe's afterlife would end in anguish and disgrace, for he would be dragged into the dark torture of the underworld, but I simply reassured my sister that he would be happy, for his heart was light.

"Would you like us to find someone to help your family on their farm?" Varda offered. "I know it must be hard for you."

Pelkha managed to dry her eyes. "It would help us out a great deal. We can barely move because of all these sores."

"Our neighbor has a strong son. He's good at farm work. I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping you."

The young man's name was Elimelech. He offered to go to my parents' home at once to get started on his chores, saying that he would also be happy to pray for the healing of all in the household.

When Hanif returned to Goshen that evening, he held me as I tearfully informed him what had happened to Benipe. I was so distraught that my husband remained in Goshen the following day to comfort me rather than making his daily journey to care for our farm.

I asked Elimelech to entreat my family once more to join me in Goshen. My baby would need grandparents and aunts and an uncle. He promised he would tell them what I had said.

As I had expected, my father refused. He was as stubborn and set in his ways as Nisu. However, Pelkha was grieving, and she claimed being in Goshen, away from the suffering of the rest of Kemet, relieved her pain to an extent, so she returned with Elimelech at the end of each day.

To my surprise, she seemed fascinated by tales of the Hebrew God. Perhaps it comforted her to hear of people like Avraham, Yitzhak, Yaakov, and Yosef. She patiently listened to Elimelech tell of how Moshe was appointed to draw the Hebrews out of slavery.

"There's no harm in hearing what they believe," Pelkha told me. "Perhaps they know something that we don't."

Decades ago, Moshe had apparently been placed in a basket on the Iterw. When the former _nisu_ 's daughter had seen it, she had perceived the baby boy as a gift, delivered from the womb of the Iterw.

However, she had been clever enough to understand what had happened. A Hebrew mother had hidden her baby in the last place she had been able, no doubt hoping that someone would find the basket and adopt its contents. Her strategy had worked, for Nisu's daughter had taken pity on the infant, raising him as a prince.

When Moshe had reached adulthood, he had killed a man and gone into hiding in the wilderness in Midian. After spending years as a shepherd, he had seen a burning bush. The Hebrew God had spoken to him, telling him to go before our current Nisu, who had been as a close relative to Moshe when he was a prince, and demand the liberty of the Hebrew slaves.

These punishments were confusing to Nisu. To refuse to liberate the Hebrews was to invite the wrath of their God, but to allow them to go free was to invoke the anger of our gods. Furthermore, he could hardly understand why Moshe had turned into his enemy.

In a strange sort of way, I did feel the slightest pity for Nisu, but I still wished he would free the Hebrew slaves.


	12. Chapter 12

Pelkha finished tucking the last bit of fruit into her basket. She planned to spend the whole day with Elimelech, warning the Kemetians who were unable to take refuge in Goshen. Hanif also had taken the day off from tending our farm so he too could spread the warning. I wished I could go with them, but every day, walking became more difficult.

Thunder and lightning would herald the arrival of a massive hailstorm. The hailstorms would be larger and fall with more ferocity than ever before since the foundation of Kemet. Any creature, human or animal, left in the field would be killed.

Some people claimed that a volcanic eruption in another kingdom had been strong enough to cause disaster over our land. Others said that every calamity was a direct attack on our gods. Whatever the case may have been, I had no hope that Nut would be able to prevent this horror.

"But what will happen to the crops?" I asked rhetorically.

Of course, I already knew the answer. Our flax and barley would be destroyed. We'd be fortunate to have even our fruit trees survive. We would have no linen to make into clothes or sell at the market, and we would have no barley porridge or beer.

Once again, I wondered about my baby. Would we have enough food to support the child? On the day my child was born, would Kemet be safe enough to send someone to find help, or would the messenger die?

As if sensing my concerns, Varda asked if I would like to speak with a Hebrew midwife in case a Kemetian could not be found in time when the day arrived. I readily agreed, anxious to know what kind of woman would be helping me bring forth my baby.

Chaviva seemed slightly older than my mother, but not quite as advanced in years as Varda. She squeezed my hands as I greeted her.

"How exciting for you, dear!" Chaviva beamed. "The arrival of your first baby! I know words can't express how much you're looking forward to this most blessed event!"

"Do you have children of your own?" I asked. "I've heard many Hebrew midwives don't."

"I have two." She patted my hand. "Don't worry. I understand perfectly what a mother goes through since I've done it twice myself."

"And how many babies have you helped find their way into the world?"

"Dozens over the years."

That was certainly a relief. She still seemed enthusiastic about her job, and she had experience.

"The women in your care have no doubt been Hebrew."

Chaviva continued to smile warmly. "Hebrew, Kemetian, Berber, Nubian, and many others! It happens the same way for all mothers."

"Have you ever helped a mother with complications?" I wondered aloud.

"Plenty," she replied, "but you won't have any. You're young and strong, and I can tell that little one's active."

"I feel tired most of the time, and I keep having false labor."

The midwife gripped my shoulder lightly. "Not for much longer, dear."

We talked for a while, and at the end of our visit, I asked if she would be willing to speak with Zahra. Chaviva agreed and left for my family's farm the following day.

Mother was surprised to see a Hebrew at her door. "Can we help you?"

"I'm a midwife from Goshen."

"Has our grandchild come?!"

"Not yet, but he'll be here before you know it. Is Zahra here?"

"She's in the kitchen."

Zahra sighed sadly when she saw her visitor. "I fear I will never have need of your services."

Chaviva took her hand gently. "Your sister-in-law sent me to talk with you. She says you want a baby more than anything else in the world, but for some reason, you've been unable to bring forth children."

The two spoke of how long Zahra had been Dhouti's wife, how long they had been praying for a baby, and other very personal matters. Finally, Chaviva was able to offer some advice.

When the troubles of Kemet had passed, Zahra should pamper herself a little. She should take warm baths with rose petals in the water while someone stood out of view and read to her or played music. Although this treatment had little to do with her ability to have a baby, it would help Zahra feel relaxed and provide a respite from daily stress. For this reason, she should also allow another woman, such as Pelkha or my mother, to help her brush out her hair after her baths.

Zahra must also make sure she ate plenty of food, especially beans, green vegetables, and red meat. She should also drink nonalcoholic juice made of dates rather than beer.

Dhouti was also to have regular baths, but unlike Zahra, he must make sure not to soak for long periods of time in hot water. He must frequently rest when working outdoors, making sure to drink plenty of water as he sat in the shade with a fan, for he must not allow himself to become overheated.

However, he too must find ways to relax. Playing board games with Father or going hunting with a group of friends might help relieve his stress, and moderate exercise would improve his chance of becoming a parent, as long as he didn't overdo it.

Like his wife, my brother would also have to eat a proper diet, but he must find ways to make sure he ate plenty of garlic. They would both have to make sure they were sleeping well.

"I know it will be hard for you," Chaviva concluded, "but while you're making these changes, try to forget about babies. Take care of yourselves and act as if you're good friends beginning to fall in love for the first time. The feelings between a couple happily married for years are beautiful, but I want you two to feel like newlyweds again."

Zahra's eyes shown with hope. "And you really think it will help us have a baby?"

"When these troubles in Kemet are over, if you'll take my advice, you stand a good chance of carrying new life."

When Pelkha heard about the visit, she burst into tears. I was with child, nearly ready to birth, and Zahra was beginning to hope she might one day bear a child for Dhouti, but Pelkha had no chance of having her own baby. The man she loved had died before their marriage.

The time was not yet right to reassure my sister that she was hardly an old maid. Widows older than my sister had remarried and brought forth strong, healthy children. Besides, if she was present when I went to the birthing stool, Pelkha might be grateful that she was still a maiden.


	13. Chapter 13

I had to question Chaviva's judgment when she came to Aviyah's home and asked if I wanted to assist with a birth. I politely declined, explaining that I was already nervous enough about the day my baby would be born, but Chaviva thought it would be good for me to see the joy of a mother who embraced her newborn. Since I trusted Chaviva, I allowed myself to be persuaded.

The mother was only a short walk away from where we were. When Chaviva explained why she had brought me, the woman managed to smile.

"Don't let my experience frighten you," she stated. "It's different for every mother."

I hoped so. She was breathless, and when she spoke, she sounded hoarse from the horrific shrieks that escaped her throat. Furthermore, she was drenched in sweat, and there was a terrible fear in her eyes. I shuddered as I imagined myself in such anguish.

"See? The pains aren't constant," Chaviva remarked. "She had time to catch her breath and rest between them. When she gets to the point where she can't, that means her baby is almost here."

The mother held out her hand, and I walked over and placed my own in hers. "This is my seventh child. I've felt these pains half a dozen times before, yet I still rejoiced to discover I carried new life again. You'll know why on the day you hold your own baby."

Her gentle grip became so tight that I feared she would break every bone in my hand as another pain seized her. Never before had I seen anyone in such torment, and I prayed I would never see it again.

"I thought perhaps Anit could comfort your children," Chaviva suggested.

I was more than willing to leave the room. I could still hear the mother's cries, but I no longer had to see the struggle on her face.

The oldest child, a daughter, was already working to prepare some manner of stew for her four brothers. The youngest child, also a girl, was frightened, unable to understand why her mother was in pain.

"Mother has a bad tummy ache," the older daughter explained, pausing her work long enough to take her sister onto her lap. "The nice lady who came to help her will give her herbs, and Mother won't hurt anymore."

The younger daughter pointed to my swollen waist.

"It's not polite to point," her sister gently scolded. "This woman's going to ask God for a baby."

Without a moment's hesitation, the toddler pointed to the Iterw through the window.

"No, her baby won't be thrown in the river. She's Kemetian."

I winced at the thought. My face must have betrayed my unspoken questions because the older sister turned to me.

"One of Nisu's guards likes my mother," she explained. "He came to visit a few times after each of my brothers was born, and I had to play in the garden, but when he left, Mother said we could keep the baby. That's why I have brothers."

I tried not to cringe, for to do so would to be raise questions the child was too young to understand, but as I looked at the boys, I couldn't help but notice that one had slightly darker skin than his brothers, as if he were partially Kemetian. No wonder the Hebrew God was so angry with our people!

"Perhaps after supper, you children might like to go for a walk," I suggested.

This idea was met with a chorus of approval, so when the children had finished their stew, I allowed them to show me their home. The older sister pointed out all the flowers she grew herself in the garden, and the youngest child made sure I noticed every butterfly that flew past. As the boys had little use for aesthetic beauty, they amused themselves by having foot races.

A window opened, and Chaviva stuck her head out. "Anit? Could you come in here, please?"

The older sister assured me that she was used to looking after her brothers, and now her sister, while her parents worked, so she would be fine. I told her to let me know if she needed anything, and I went to see how I could be of service.

"I wanted you to see this," Chaviva answered, helping the mother stand on two large bricks. "She likes to stand, but it might be different for you."

A small group of other women, quite possibly the mother's relatives, stood around the woman's shoulders to hold her arms and dab her face with a damp cloth. Chaviva placed a small pillow in front of the woman and helped me kneel on it.

"Just wait until you see the baby!" she exclaimed.

I didn't have long to wait. My knees hadn't even begun to tire under my weight before I felt Chaviva gently positioning my hands.

"You're going to catch the baby," she stated. "It was the mother's idea."

I wasn't sure her idea was a very good one, but before I had time to argue, I was holding a squirming, messy bundle. For a few moments, I was unable to speak, but I finally found my voice and announced that the infant was female.

Chaviva helped me wrap the baby and hand her to the mother, whose smile was too large for her haggard face. Despite her blatant exhaustion, a gentle warmth radiated from the woman's eyes like the rising sun.

"That's how mothers are able to bear their pains," Chaviva told me. "Babies are well worth the effort. Have you ever seen anyone happier?"

To be honest, I hadn't. Even though she had writhed in agony only moments earlier, the mother looked as if this day were the best of her life. Her joy knew no bounds.

However, I felt a wave of pity for Hanif's late mother. How could a woman go through such horrific suffering, only to have such joy shattered as all her dreams died with the final exhalation of one small pair of lungs? I couldn't imagine losing the only thing in the world that made me so happy, and I once more prayed to the Hebrew God that my baby would be spared the punishments that had come upon Kemet.

"What's your name?" the mother asked me.

"Anit."

She looked down at her baby. "You shall be called Anat."

I was flattered. The mother was naming her baby the closest equivalent possible in her language.

Chaviva instructed me how to clean Anat. As I gently prepared her to meet her father, the baby's pudgy hand wrapped around my finger. I felt as if she squeezed my very souls.

"I see that!" Chaviva laughed. "You'll be an excellent mother! If someone else's baby can overpower you, just imagine how it will feel when you finally hold your own!"

The father was justly proud of his little daughter. He kissed her gently and lowered his arms so her brothers and sisters could see her.

After four brothers and a sister, the oldest girl was no longer excited about the arrival of a new baby. It was just routine. The daughter who had formerly been the youngest child glared, silently demanding to know what this creature was and why it was trying to steal her parents' attention.

The brothers' reactions were as different as they were. One got bored when he found out the baby was female instead of another little boy. The oldest of the boys very solemnly asked if it would be his sworn duty to keep evil men from marrying his baby sister when she got older. As for the other two boys, one hoped she would grow up and play dolls to keep the other two occupied, but the other hoped she would be more like a boy so she could race with him.

"How was it?" Hanif queried when I returned.

I sat down and allowed him to massage my shoulders. "I almost changed my mind about wanting a baby, but it's hard to argue with people who look so happy."

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I realized I had forgotten the children's names, even though the father had introduced his entire family to me. I only remembered baby Anat and the name of the oldest daughter, Chaviva.


	14. Chapter 14

During the hailstorm, some Kemetians believed the world was coming to an end. Deafening thunder resounded as lightning flashed against a dark, hazy sky. Massive hailstones destroyed the budding flax and heads of barley as rain pelted the land. Set was no doubt greatly pleased, but the land was devastated.

What wasn't destroyed by hail was burned. Lightning ignited trees, already stripped of their bark by the hailstones, and the flames competed with the precipitation to see which force of nature would ruin the fields first.

However, the warning had saved lives. Everyone who had brought in their animals and servants from the field suffered no losses other than the crops. People who refused to do as the Hebrew God had suggested suddenly found their few remaining animals dead, leaving some families without even one creature to call their own.

All our animals were still alive, even our mongooses and the growing kitten. Our fields had suffered some loss, for hail fell everywhere except Goshen, but we still had enough for a harvest. There would be no abundance, but it would be enough to see us through.

Even my stubborn father hadn't wished to risk losing the rest of his farm to a storm, so he had consented when Pelkha and Zahra had begged him to bring in the animals. The sores and boils had healed, but my father and Dhouti were still weakened from the illnesses that had plagued them, so Elimelech continued to offer his assistance at my parents' farm, and my sister still insisted that following him to Goshen at the end of each day was a comfort.

"It's kind of him to help us," Pelkha remarked. "After all, we barely know him, and we are Kemetian."

"It is kind," I agreed.

"I wonder why his parents have not yet arranged a match for him. He's a hard worker, and he seems intelligent."

Rumors spread that Nisu's own servants begged him to release Moshe and the Hebrews, for Kemet was already destroyed. Our very lives were being stolen from us. However, Nisu still refused to listen. I suppose it would have been the easiest thing in the world for the enemies of Kemet to conquer us, but who would want this devastated land?

The remaining livestock was recovering, and people who had lost animals were managing to find enough coins to purchase some in the market. Hanif was able to sell one of our horses to one of Nisu's officials for well over three times the normal price, but he offered cattle and sheep to my parents at no charge.

Spelt and wheat were beginning to grow, and I had the mistaken belief that all would be well. However, I was unable to shake the uneasy feeling that plagued me. Kemet was still unsafe.

My suspicions were confirmed when Hanif announced the arrival of locusts. The swarms were so thick that it seemed as if the ground was a huge, living being.

Nothing was safe. Gardens, herbs, crops, trees, and every other plant were devoured by myriads of tiny jaws. Furthermore, the locusts made themselves at home in the barns and houses of the Kemetians, crawling all over people and adding to their torment with incessant noise. Only in Goshen was there any relief. Neper had definitely lost this battle to the Hebrew God.

I worried constantly about my family. What would my parents do when they had nothing to eat? Would the Hebrew God kill every Kemetian? So many lives had been lost already.

Elimelech continued to tell Pelkha stories. Just as a staff had become a cobra when Ra's eye fell on it, the staff of Moshe had been transformed into a cobra before Nisu. Although Pelkha was fascinated by these tales, I just wanted relief from my discomfort.

Due to an increasing number of backaches, I was no longer able to do farm work, but I often watched Hebrew children while their parents worked. I always loved being around children, but sometimes they did have a knack for getting into trouble. I once had to rescue a toddler from a well because his older sister was trying to play "baby Moshe in the basket."

The children also liked to play "Moshe and Paroh." One would pretend to lord over the other children, who would act like they were making bricks. Then the child playing the part of Moshe would announce a punishment, and the other children would pretend to be Kemetian officials and announce to whoever had the role of Nisu how Kemet was being destroyed.

I was becoming an expert at answering questions. The most common was "Why do you have such a big tummy?" but there were also plenty of curious minds who wished to know why Nisu didn't believe in the Hebrew God.

"Can't him wet us go?" a girl queried.

"Nisu…Paroh, that is…believes that if he lets you go, he'll be punished in the afterlife," I explained.

"Him wight about that!"

A boy wandered up to me and asked why we worshipped animals.

"We believe their power is a sign from our gods," I replied.

"What about the power of our God?" he asked. "Don't you bewieve in that?"

Our water had been destroyed and caused an invasion of frogs. Insects had destroyed our livestock, who had been further helped down the path of destruction by disease, which had begun destroying humans as well. Now our crops were being destroyed. It was nearly impossible not to believe in the power of the Hebrew God. Our gods were certainly no help.

Pelkha seemed to have lost her ability to cry. She accepted the idea of starvation with a sort of detachment. After all she'd been through already, what was one more threat? Death could bring only relief.


	15. Chapter 15

Despite my growing discomfort, I managed to fall asleep. However, I awakened in a sweat, screaming in anguish. My entire abdomen had tightened, and my back ached so dreadfully that I doubted I would ever use it again. An overpowering wave of darkness, worse than any pain I had ever experienced, gripped me in its full strength for several moments that felt like hours, finally relenting in its terror and allowing me to relax again.

"What's wrong?!" Hanif asked, stroking my hair. "Are you alright?!"

"It never stopped." A tear slid down my face. "I'm used to false labor by now, but it still hasn't stopped."

Varda lit a lamp and took my hand. "Have your pains gotten stronger since they first started?"

"They've never been this bad!" I answered.

"Are they closer together than usual?"

"They are." I screamed again, suffering too greatly to feel guilty that I had awakened the rest of the household.

Pelkha was immediately by my side. "What's wrong?"

"Your sister's time has come," Varda answered.

"No!" I protested. "I don't want to have a baby! There's too much suffering in the world!"

Varda placed a cool cloth on my brow. "We'll have the men step out of the room so you can have your privacy."

Even before she finished speaking, Aviyah and Hanif were making their way to the roof. I knew it was proper that only women attend me, but I no longer cared about propriety or modesty; I thought only of being free from this torture. What if the baby died, and I suffered such great torment only to have empty arms?

"Nothing about this birth will be any different than what's already happened with dozens of other women," Varda assured me. "The midwife will take good care of you both. Her only thought is helping you reach the end of this pain and placing a beautiful baby in your arms. She already has experience helping with every complication imaginable, but you won't have any. Such a strong mother will surely have a strong baby."

All the punishments of Kemet were happening inside my body at the same time. Disease, fire, hailstones, thunder, lightning, and stinging insects tore through my inner being.

Pelkha stayed behind to comfort me while Varda went for the midwife. Chaviva didn't waste any time. She arrived almost instantly, instructing Pelkha to boil some water.

"Will you get the rest of my family?" I begged. "I want my mother and Zahra."

"It's too dark," Chaviva explained.

"How about after the sun rises?"

Varda sympathetically patted my hand. "It won't rise today. Kemet is being punished with darkness. Only Goshen will receive light."

I started sobbing. I wanted Mother to see her grandchild, and I knew how much a baby in the family would mean to Zahra.

Chaviva lightly dabbed my face with a damp cloth. "There's no need to cry. Just imagine what a wonderful surprise you'll have for them."

She offered me what comfort she could until she finally announced that it was time for me to take my place on the bricks. Chaviva made me stand, kneel, squat, and sit on my heels, asking me which position felt most comfortable.

"I'm not sure!" I exclaimed. "Just make it stop!"

She helped me onto a birthing chair, which was also made of brick, placing a bowl of hot water underneath me to ease the delivery. Pelkha stood on one side of me, and Varda stood on the other, holding my arms and offering encouragement while Chaviva remained in front of me.

I was beginning to believe I had died and entered a realm of punishment. Yes, that would explain the torments that were all around me, as well as the tightening and burning inside my body. My shrieks were so loud that Chaviva had to shout her advice to me.

Finally, there was a high-pitched screech from someone else.

"It's a boy!" Chaviva placed a messy, squirming bundle in my arms. "Here he is. This is your son."

No words could describe the first time I held my baby. Even in the farthest stretches of my imagination, I had never dreamed such great love was possible. It was as if my very souls were on the outside of my body, all wrapped into one perfect gift.

"He's strong and healthy," Chaviva assured me. "We'll just clean him up a little and make you comfortable; then we'll let his father see him."

Pelkha's face held a tumult of emotions. I could tell she was proud to be an aunt, and she envied me a bit when she saw the tender way I admired my baby. However, my experience had also frightened her, and she was grateful that she was at no risk of being with child.

As Chaviva cleaned the baby, she and Varda advised me how to feed him. They told me that cuddles would feel good to the baby, who would appreciate the warmth, and holding him would strengthen our bond, but they could have saved their breath. I couldn't imagine ever being more than a few steps away from my child.

Hanif was speechless for several long moments when he saw our son. He stared at us both, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"He's beautiful!"

"Might we call him Yerachmiel?" I smiled at my baby. "It means 'God will have mercy,' and that's how we'll be able to provide for him. The Hebrew God had mercy on us, even in the midst of the destruction."

Hanif frowned. "Yerachmiel?"

"Or Tzephania? It means 'protected by God.'"

"No one will ever accept him if he has a Hebrew name."

"We can give him two names," I suggested. "We'll give him a Kemetian name he can use in public, but around home, we can call him Yerachmiel."

My husband cradled our son. "What do you think of using the name Reseph?"

The baby yawned.

"I think he likes it." Hanif kissed me.

When my family came to see me, I was surprised to hear there had been three days of darkness. No one had been able to see each other, so everyone had remained where they were. Not only was this an attack on Ra, but for three days, the animals had remained unfed and left to thirst because no one had been able to see enough to make a light and find the barn.

Since darkness had always been a sign of despair and judgment, many people lost heart, thinking that the gods had deserted them. Those who had been fighting for their health gave up, allowing their souls to pass into the next world. Even perfectly healthy people gave in to fits of strong emotion, screaming and sobbing as they wondered how many more punishments Nisu would force them to endure.

When the light had finally returned, Dhouti and Zahra had found a little girl out in the field as they went to feed the animals. Noticing that the child was crying, Zahra had immediately hurried over to embrace her.

"What's wrong, little one?" she asked kindly.

"I hungwy."

"Where are your parents?"

"Asweep."

While Zahra got some food for her young guest, Dhouti made enquiries. The girl's parents had been servants of a nobleman who forced them to work in the field on the day of the prophesied hailstorm. When the hailstones had begun to fall, the parents had tried to run to shelter, but both were wounded by the large masses of falling ice. Realizing they would never be able to crawl to safety in time, they had shared a final embrace and died in each other's arms.

"The gods took your parents to be with them," Zahra explained gently. "They won't have to be servants in more."

"Why them not take me?" the girl queried.

"They knew you'd be safe here, and you'll be happy. Your parents will still watch over you, and when they have a place ready for you, you'll be with them again."

The child's name was Aneksi, and she was fascinated by the baby.

"I hold dolly?" she asked.

Zahra helped her sit down and propped her arm up with pillows, placing Yerachmiel in her arms.

"Hi, dolly!" Aneksi gently kissed the baby's forehead. "I wuv you, dolly!"

Yerachmiel opened his eyes and squirmed.

"Wook! The dolly moves!"

While my newly adopted niece continued to be fascinated by the living doll, I took Zahra's hand and told her how happy I was that she had finally been blessed with a child.

"And just in time!" she agreed. "The horrors that Kemet has endured have caused my body to change!"

When she described what changes were taking place, I could scarcely believe what I was hearing, for I had experienced very similar changes just before realizing I carried new life.


	16. Chapter 16

I wept with joy when I saw my home for the first time since the tribulation had begun in Kemet. The locusts hadn't left any crops, but our animals were still healthy.

"It's a beautiful sound," Hanif remarked as we walked toward our house.

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly!" My husband sighed with relief. "No frogs, no locusts…just silence."

Yerachmiel squealed.

Hanif smiled. "You can break the silence any time you want."

"Did you mark the door?" I asked.

"Both posts and the lintel," he replied. "I even marked the barn to be sure."

The Hebrew God had announced through Moshe that there would be only one more punishment over Kemet; then the Hebrews would be forced to leave Goshen in haste. He had sent the Hebrew women to collect gold and silver from their Kemetian neighbors, who willingly obliged.

Since Aviyah and Varda knew they would soon be leaving, they had offered us their farm. The land of Goshen had not been destroyed by hail or locusts, and since it would be impossible to take their harvests with them, they had offered the food to our family.

Despite my happiness that they had finally gained their freedom and Kemet would no longer be tormented, I felt sorrow, for if not for their kindness, I would likely have miscarried my baby. Perhaps Hanif and I would also be dead.

"You must come visit us in our new land." Varda embraced me. "It should only be a few days away. We'll see each other often. You can be sure of it!"

Since it was such a short journey, Pelkha had made a decision that surprised us all. She announced that she was going with the Hebrews. She wanted to live among them for a while and learn more about their God. I would miss my sister, but I knew she would be safe, for Varda's family and Elimelech would take care of her. Besides, she would be back soon, no doubt with tales of adventure.

As soon as we entered our beautiful home, which seemed all the more spacious after the time we had spent in the small house of Goshen, Hanif began destroying every idol we owned, carrying them outside and smashing them against the ground. I was horrified, and I asked my husband what was the matter.

"They've done nothing for us!" he exclaimed, angrily kicking a crushed head into the darkness. "They let my family die! They ignored us when our land was plagued and our people were dying! They're incompetent and useless at best! If not for the Hebrew God, I would be dead of leprosy, and you would be the wife of another man, having miscarried your baby and lost your farm! Who knows? Maybe you'd be dead too! The Hebrew God is the only one who ever cared about us!"

At first I thought Hanif was simply angry at the devastation, or perhaps he was frightened when he considered that our baby might easily have died before birth, but then I realized he was right. The gods of Kemet had done nothing to stop the destruction of our land, and without the Hebrew God, not one animal of our farm would have been spared, let alone our own lives. Seizing another idol, I joined Hanif in his quest to rid our house of them.

I had just rocked Yerachmiel to sleep when I heard a knock at the door. My husband answered while I lay the baby in his cradle.

"It's your brother," Hanif announced.

Dhouti ushered his family into our home.

"A little late for a visit, isn't it?" I asked.

"I feel healthy enough," he began, "but every other prediction this Moshe has made has come to pass. As you know, I'm the firstborn of our family. Father refuses to stain our doors with lamb's blood and hyssop, but I had a feeling you wouldn't. Can we stay here for the night?"

"Of course!"

At midnight, all the firstborn of Kemet would die: children, adults, and animals. This punishment would even pass through Goshen. The only way to save the firstborn of a household was to mark the door with blood.

I noticed that my brother seemed quiet, so I reassured him that we had followed the Hebrew God's instructions, so death would pass over our home. However, he didn't seem consoled by my words.

"You forget that Father is the firstborn of his family," he replied, "and he was too stubborn to mark the door."

I burst into tears, realizing what would happen, but I quickly managed to regain control of my emotions. I didn't wish to frighten Aneksi, who was staring at her sleeping cousin.

"Dolly asweep?" she asked.

"Yes, he's asleep," Zahra answered. "How would you like a little brother or sister of your very own?"

"A wive dolly wike this one?"

"That's right."

Aneksi jumped up and down. "Oh, I wuv one!" She immediately calmed herself. "Shh. Dolly asweep."

Dhouti frowned and whispered, "Where are we going to get a live dolly?"

Zahra made no reply with her lips, but she smiled warmly and lightly touched her waist. My brother immediately embraced his wife.

Kemet was devastated, but we would have enough food, and my family would have three beautiful children to raise. Somehow we would survive the troubled economic times ahead. Above all, Hanif and I would teach Yerachmiel how he got his name and about the Hebrew God, who was powerful enough to destroy one nation while simultaneously liberating another.

 _A'nekh djet!_


End file.
